Yield
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Two opposing views on the meaning of being royalty from two sisters who don't always get along. Standalone


Yield 

_Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. Written for Challenge 20 of the __Seanfhocal__ Circle__.___

Princess Kalasin of Conté was sitting in her dressing room, regarding her face in the mirror. The face looked back at her, sober and calculating beyond its sixteen years. Resolutely, the girl ignored the unflattering expression and considered her features, tilting her face so she could almost see her profile reflected in the glass.

It was a small face, with a small chin and mouth and ivory skin stretched taut over high, sharp cheekbones. Her nose was her mother's, too strong, and her eyes were large, colored in bold blue. They were good features, and she liked them; though boyish in her childhood, she'd grown quite vain in her adolescent years, and enjoyed the effect her looks had on those around her.

The sound of the door softly closing made the princess look behind her. Her sister had entered the room.

"Ready for dinner?" asked Kally.

Lianne nodded. "_You_ don't look ready," she remarked.

"Almost," said the older girl, unconcerned. She got up and gathered the expanse of honey-colored silk that lay ready on the bed.

"Need help lacing up?" asked Lianne.

Kally shook her head slightly. "I've called for Sria, she should be here any moment." Rather than sit and wait for her handmaiden to come, the princess held the silken gown against herself, examining the effect in the mirror over her dressing table. Her sister stood by and watched.

"Ro said you've decided," said Lianne suddenly.

Kally nodded, smoothing the amber skirt against her shift-covered thigh. "I'm telling them tonight."

"Who is it?"

Kally considered telling her she'd find out when the rest of the family does. She didn't need to share her precious few secrets with her twelve-year-old sister, after all. In the end, though, their tenuous friendship won out. "Carthak." She didn't need to say _Kaddar_, because the name was both self-evident and immaterial. She wasn't choosing the emperor, after all, but his land, with its rich resources, its strength of centuries and the political power that was almost unequaled in the entire Eastern Lands.

It was a moment before she noticed her sister was silent with shock, staring at her with wide brown eyes.

"What?" snapped Kally, perilously likening to the close-tempered, ill-refined child she had been.

"_Kaddar_?" Her tone was beyond incredulous; it was judgmental.

Kally spun around and glared at Lianne, still clutching the gown against her. "Yes," she said, turning to the bed to spread the silk on it carefully.

"He has three wives already," said Lianne pointedly.

"I know, Lianne," said Kally, rolling her eyes.

"You plan to marry a man who already has three wives?" insisted her sister.

"That is inferred from what I said," replied the older princess coolly.

Her sister pursed her lips. A moment later she said, "Mama will not be pleased, I think."

Kalasin knew that Thayet would not like her choice, but it was her choice to make. She mulled over her reply to her sister, briefly considering ignoring her remark entirely; it wasn't like it was in any way helpful, or even informative. "I know."

From the corner of her eye, Kally saw Lianne hesitate.

"How could this be what you want?" asked the girl.

She straightened. "We don't marry for love," she reminded her only sister, who continued to look at her stubbornly.

"Look at mama and papa," said Lianne. "Look at Ro. You're not even _trying_."

Kally shook her head firmly. "I am trying, Annie. Just, for something other than what you're thinking of. Something different."

"So, you want to be empress," Lianne's voice was accusatory.

Delicately arched black brows snapped together. "Perhaps," she said, feeling suddenly uncharitable towards her younger sibling. "Perhaps I wish to be something other than a loving wife. Something more."

"_He has three wives_," repeated Lianne stubbornly. "How is that something more?"

Turning her back on her sister, the princess walked over to her dressing table and picked up a heavy brush. "I should be obliged if you returned to our mother," she said. "I need to finish dressing, and Sria will soon be here."

Tight-faced, Lianne made polite farewell, curtseyed and departed, disapproval written boldly on her face. Kalasin put it out of her mind and sat down to give her heavy black hair a last brush. She had made her decision, and had little use for the opinion of someone too naïve to resign to the ways of the world.


End file.
